"You Look Like You've Got Something To Say," Koito Glares At Ogata Defensive In Advance.

❛  fervent .   to  have  sex  with  my  muse  after  a  fight . :^) stsg

@cursedfell

chained together in the throes of fate, willingly or not, this is where it always takes them. company is less burdensome when neither of them speak about it, about the decades long since faded in their own side of the puzzle. unfitting pieces worn at the edges, though he wonders sometimes if they were even meant to blend in to begin with?

suguru watches quietly as satoru’s breath halts, the intake that comes afterwards, like the first breath of a drowning man who’s reached the surface. desperate, kicking at the void below his feet. he likes that kind of desperation, reminds him that maybe he’s not entirely on his own, that he, too, wants this just as much as he does. suguru’s yukata falls with a hiss to the ground, knee pressed on the mattress’ edge and his weight guides satoru closer when it bends under his body. he crawls, hair cascading in black strokes. it should feel threatening, knowing what he can do, what stains his record and places him a galaxy away from satoru’s own heroic presence. satoru is a savior and suguru’s long since resigned to be the false prophet. his body aches where satoru’s been unkind: the blows, an elbow to the rib, a curse thrown back at him. it’s familiar, just like every one of their sparring is.

do they even need to pretend that they’ve been stalling the inevitable? satoru’s been tasked with his execution, and suguru… suguru knows what it takes to turn limitless off, to make his guard drop and every necessary word to pull him in to his arms. it would be so easy.

but it isn’t.

suguru swallows through a dry throat, tongue flitting out to lick at the falling blood from his nose as he brings himself closer to satoru. “are you happy with this? i lost, and this is what you ask for? how does it make you any different from a perverted old man.”

there’s no real malice in suguru’s words, though neither does he make it sweet for him. it’s a courtesy, really, that he’s speaking to him at all. or perhaps he likes this, belated punishment for having left everything behind and no look back or goodbyes. satoru’s grip comes faster than he can avoid it — no, it’d be a lie to say he didn’t see it coming, that his heart hadn’t raced with expectation. his head is shoved violently between satoru’s legs, face only a thin line of air away from his hardened cock.

suguru glares up, meeting satoru’s concealed blues and the irritating expression that’s saying well? what are you waiting for? wordlessly.

satoru knows… of course he does. keeping the black bandage above his face - as if he’s preventing suguru from enjoying himself a little too much, like the mere notion of eye contact would be intimate enough to transform this into anything different than what it is. suguru hisses through his teeth, before licking up a wet stripe across his length, moving north, until his lips and mouth wrap tightly around its girth. he’s mean enough to swallow him whole, making use of his lack of gag reflex to his advantage and enjoying the gasps and groans that satoru’s fighting fiercely against.

hands press around his head, sinking him deeper and his nose rubs against the trimmed hair of his underbelly. sweat runs down his spine, brows knitted together in concentration. he can’t perceive the world as satoru does, so he plays his cards right and uses the angle of his bobbing head to have a long, direct look at satoru’s face, contorted with pleasure, the fine features distorted into animalistic desire. suguru likes being the cause of it.

and he has two choices: either he allows satoru to ride out his pleasure in his mouth, or he can pull himself off his leaking cock, make him beg for it. satoru will snap for it but the reward is a risky prospect. suguru is in no mind to think any better outcome, so he opts for a third unlisted option: his mouth opens near the tip, hand working on milking every last bit of satoru’s cravings, eyes locked with his, through the bandages, and even deeper than that, where he knows there’s a connection, coiled deep into that pretty skull.

“come on, satoru. just come already.” he croons.

Tyki

(DGM chapter 250)

send "let me see your hand" for our muses to compare hand sizes.

@cursedfell

so that barbie meme huh!

summer uncoils memories, a sleeping python and its gaping mouth hovering in the back of his mind.

it was hot back then, too, heat oozing off the concrete. white shirts sticking to their bodies, the deafening, mournful cry of the cicadas, hair that’s too damp and unruly to keep together. as his steps take him further into the mountain, these recollections cease to gnaw at him, the endless stream finally settling into something that he’s not quite sure can be called peaceful stillness or momentary subjugation: the knot in his stomach tells him it’s the latter.

suguru barely flinches when satoru’s shape comes to view, shadowed by the leaves moving like fish in the water. it only adds to the hermetic sensation that’s been following him since the first moment he sensed the familiar cursed energy roaming about. instinct is cyclical, a silent baring of teeth, ebbing away the closer his feet took him to where satoru stood unbothered.

bear it with dignity, right up until the reminiscence begins to touch the raw-edged remnants of feelings long expired. his voice is serene, divested of the practiced theatrics of a false deity, and perhaps the most sincere he’s ever been in the past months.

“ satoru! ” voice feather-like, it surprises him that every syllable tastes the same rolled around his tongue, easy as though time was nonexistent. each invisible stitch seeks to replicate the ease and form by which satoru knew him — his original imperfection, as suguru remembered it. it comes to naught. their features are sharper, their bodies taller, broader, and the scent of their cursed energy honed in a way that told suguru about the curses that lay crushed beneath satoru’s feet.

a sigh of relief, then, disguised by his relaxed posture. i suppose i don’t have to worry, we’re still on opposing sides. “ i’ll make a risky assumption and say that i’m not the target this time. what about the curse? have you squashed it yet?”

@infinitie

@cursedfell

Sherliam can get married now, suck that ACD Estate

❝  you will never gain fame from your fighting. does this surprise you?  ❞ @aizen

‘ that you see my actions as absolutes is a mistake of its own. gain and loss are subjective, the rabbit whose death is quick and painless has gained more than the fox whose only hunt for the winter is a small rodent. ’

the pursuit of something intangible is beyond any other death reaper’s understanding. that is what initially separated kings from gods, gods from the nothingness that follows. for him to be able to reach that which cannot be grasped, a lifetime of this became a curse of its own though curse is a strong word to describe the inner machinations of what his heart truly desired. sousuke doubts it’s so simple to say during idle conversation, even less when there’s a key to each of his senses, darkness unfolding and endlessly shrouding them had it not been for the particles of reiatsu softly moving like fireflies at dusk.

it takes him a moment to reconsider his words, the intention to further elaborate long subdued and replaced with something austere, though a tad bit malicious. in the end, he could not entirely separate himself from poisoning what doesn’t care to see him.

‘ does it surprise me? it does not. because i never humored the thought from the beginning. ’

@kagehanabira

would've really liked to learn what geto's parents were like. from what we know about the power distribution in sorcerers world, that a boy was born with cursed spirit manipulation catalogued as special grade, it means that either a powerful sorcerer or an aparition can be traced back in his bloodline but there's never any mention of it, unlike the rest of the cast who are either grouped in the kind that belong to a clan or the descendants of powerful entities, like yuta for example.

however in regards geto's bloodline or origins we have nothing, which only makes me assume that his existence is an anomaly the kind as gojo's birth, which is said to have destabilized the carefully mantained balance in the world. curiously, geto was born after gojo, can't be said to come from any special clan or family and yet his ability at one point was on par with gojo's own and their fates entwined in a manner that his very existence handicapped gojo's overwhelming power. fate works in funny ways so i think that in order to keep the balance in check again, life, the fods, fate, coincidence, whatever almighty power there might be, it created geto, the dark side of gojo's moon.

 i never considered us to be friends. ( Gojo and Nagumo )

‘ hate the game, not the player. ’ satoru says, matter-of-factly.

there would be more seriousness to his voice, had it not been muffled by the noodles hanging from his mouth, twisted into a hungry pout. the bowl is nearly empty, chopsticks slide across the edge and fall together with a chirp as satoru swallows his last mouthful of spicy ramen (watered down especially for him, mind you). running a thumb across his lower lip, he continues, ‘ is it that hard to make cohabitation? genuine question though. ask me about my opinion and i’d say we’re better off splitting responsibilities than leave it all to the maids, assuming there’s any that can put up with our little job. ’

it’s only a flash but he notices nagumo’s smile twitching, all humor fading out and replaced by a more cynical something that he can’t put a finger on but he knows for sure skirts around mild irritation. what’s stopping nagumo from lashing out? easy: these are his favorite bowls. satoru decides that’s a small victory worth celebrating another time. 

‘ anyway, that’s not my problem. never asked to be anything more than your handsome coworker. ’ a wink, finger-guns.

‘ oh by the way... can i have seconds? ’

@tearenere